In the Face of Nothing
by Crazypeaches
Summary: To make something out of nothing was an impossibility niether of them could have done on their own. But, perhaps it was their nothingness that brought them together and helped them find out that maybe Nothing was simply a force that could be behind everything they ever wanted. UsUk -Romance in later chapters... maybe if I get there.
1. Perhaps

Perhaps it was the fact that the sky was always grey, that the air was perpetually oppressive, heavy with that dreary atmosphere, threat of rain, and stench of overcrowded spaces. Perhaps it was that no matter where he went there was someone always there, someone always in the way, someone _always_ talking, and that there was no privacy, or more importantly, that there was nowhere to grow. It had seemed that growth stifled under the weight of time, that whatever growth there was or had been, was long finished by now.

But London would always be close and dear to his heart. After all, it was his home. And as clichéd as it sounded, this was where he was born and raised. It was a place so rich with its age and history and culture and architecture, and really, it was all he knew. He wasn't a homebody by any means, but there was just something about London that he understood: it never changed in its fundamental sense, it always stood still in its glory, it always stood eternal in his mind.

Sure, he had traveled extensively all around the world; he was particularly impressed with India. However, India, he found, was too much like home; the same oppressive atmosphere, oppressive due to its poor standards perhaps (whereas with London it had been its stifling unbearableness), but it had still been oppressive nonetheless. He had always found comfort, as mean as it sounded, in the fact that there were places like India that were more crowded with people than London, and that more people were worse off than he was, so he really shouldn't have felt ungrateful for where he was at. But that didn't mean he had to appreciate where he was in his life.

No, he needed something new, something new, and clean, and large. That's why he was moving to America, or more specifically: the Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere, Texas. He didn't care where in Texas; he just knew that it was the choice of preference. Alaska would have been too desolate; he didn't want_ no_ human contact, he just didn't want a lot of it. So in fact, Arthur Kirkland had a great determination to set out and to start anew and have that privacy he oh-so craved. And Texas seemed the place to do it with its crazy heat and very private conscientious people.

Fate, of course, had other plans for him.

It always did.

* * *

**So, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but it came to me randomly while I was watching T.V. about these people trying to rent some space down in the Hackney area of London. I swear they purchased a shoebox! It was practically the size of my dining room! **

**But I thought, it'd make a good reason to get England down in America, right? 3**


	2. Bittersweet

Alfred F. Jones sighed in his saddle. Off in the far distance was the highway; cars glittered in the mid-day sun as they sped away from this little nothing town, shoot! He wouldn't even call it a town, really all that was left of it was these empty old buildings in the center and a few smatterings of farmers and ranchers, like him, in the outlying areas. The only thing even remotely resembling the chaotic frenzy that was humanity sped quickly away, to and fro, on that ribbon of road.

That was the problem! There was just nothing here, nobody his age, or even close to it, and absolutely nothing to do. But maybe it was just his loneliness talking. He loved it here, he truly did; he had a good income with his ability to handle horses. The elderly folks who still lived here humored him by letting him look after their horses, technically he was the closest to a vet they had, so that didn't hurt either when other animals got injured.

But Al was left with the feeling of want. When the only people he talked to for weeks on end were the horses, there was definitely something wrong, and the few people and friends he had known had left to go to college a long time ago, for school and work and frankly a more interesting and purposeful life than doing nothing and being nothing…

A little more of a social life would have been great, but while he enjoyed his schooling, he never liked the college scene. He had tried, truly he had, but he finally had to change it so he could study from home; his horses and the land just meant too much to him.

The skies here were always that dashing blue with hazy, fluffy clouds drifting by. Even when there was the occasional storm, the area felt unreal, phantasmagorical in its pure, untainted scenery. It was that comforting feeling of warmth and home that enveloped him, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Nowhere else was a place he felt more safe at then this peculiar fusion of sanctuary and wilderness.

He could make this lonely, bittersweet life work – he loved it after all – but that didn't mean he had to like it.

* * *

**So yeah, still not quite sure how this will form up - school has been hectic! When did it suddenly get so tedious?**

**But I do what I can! ^_^ **


	3. A New Home

Arthur gripped his steering wheel tightly as he drove down the road. _Bloody Hell! What was wrong with these people?_ _Did they not know that the proper way to drive was on the left side?_ He whispered a prayer as another truck drove past him, fearing it'd sheer off the entire left side of his poor automobile. He gave a sigh as no other cars drove nearby on the now empty stretch of road. _It's been hours and I haven't even been a third of the way through this state._ Arthur stared out of his window shield. Plains of tall grass flew by softly rippling as the breeze passed on, their golden splendor contrasted against the sky; occasionally there was the lone tree dotting the fields, cows and horses were in abundant supply and the rough tin shacks, rusting from the elements, spoke of the rustic nature of the country.

**Ding! Ding! Ding!**

Startled out of his revelry, Arthur scowled as his car alerted him of its lack of fuel. The green sign on the side of the road indicated that it was another eight miles to the next town where there'd be food and a gas station. A quick conversion in his head… about twelve, almost thirteen kilometers. He'd be there in plenty of time.

* * *

As he pulled up into the gas station, he checked his wallet; most of the cash was now the American dollar, but gas was expensive so… His jaw dropped as he stared at the pump. Only $3.63! Arthur gaped, amazed. That was only like… £2! He quickly started to fill the car. While waiting, a town inspection was in order; it looked rather… dead. There was a McDonald's looking sorely out of character among the old brick vintage shops that needed to be told it was the twenty-first century. There was a police station, although most of the cars were in the doughnut shop parking lot right across the road - Arthur snorted at that - but the rest of the buildings looked… empty; a small, decrepit library, the town hall, a Bar-B-Q joint, a Mexican restaurant, a Denny's, an H.E.B. and on the other side of the intersection, a church, a few Victorian style town homes and then open land. The city limit sign said there was about a population of one thousand, but there couldn't have been more than forty, possibly even fifty buildings here. The crunch of gravel disturbed his thoughts and a large, red Dodge Ram pickup truck pulled in on the other side to use the pump. The only thing Arthur could make out was a large man, at least six-foot, with a leather jacket and a brown cowboy hat that looked vaguely Indiana Jones-ish. He would not have been surprised if the man was carrying a whip. The young man walked around the back of his truck and inserted a card into the gas pump. Arthur checked his watch.

"Pardon, but what time is it?" A bright cheery voice asked.

"16:23," Arthur looked up from his watch to note the man was not a man, rather a very young man of possibly twenty, twenty-one.

"Ah, a British dude, that's cool. Not many of you guys roll through here… actually you'd probably be the first since ever I'd guess," the young man gave a brilliant white smile. "Where're you off too, if ya don't mind me asking." Arthur studied the man intently. He was tan, as one would expect from a farmer or whatever it was that he did out here, his hair reminded him of the golden fields he drove through for the past couple of hours and his eyes were just like the sky. If anything, he was surely the embodiment of this land.

"Actually, I am trying to find a new place to live, away from the hustle and bustle of city life," Arthur raised a brow. "Is there any place for sale here? I had originally planned to move on after filling up, but I seem to have rather quite taken to scenery here. It is very lovely," _and you are quite the looker yourself_. Arthur smirked.

"Seriously!? Dude, that's freaking awesome! Yeah, practically everywhere in town is for sale, unless, you want some land?" The blonde haired, blue-eyed stranger frowned.

"Oh, no. That's quite alright. I wouldn't know what to do with that much land. A view would be nice, but the only land I'm used to taking care of is in a pot," Arthur shook his head.

"Ah, right, you're a city-slicker. Which city did you come from?" The cowboy asked.

"London, in Great Britain," Arthur hid a smile as the lads eyes nearly popped out of his sockets.

"This is so cool, I can't wait to tell everyone, actually, no. I'm not gonna tell anyone! Not yet anyway. There's a lady in the town hall by the front desk, Sheryl Ann or something like that, if you ask her she'll show ya around," the young man smiled as he finished up at the gas pump. "I'm Alfred, by the way. Alfred F. Jones," he tipped his hat.

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur smiled as they shook hands.

"It was a pleasure meeting ya. Hope to see you around sometime," the young man, Alfred, got back into his car and started to drive away. Arthur watched it go, suddenly stop, and then reverse back into place. "Oh, and if you ever need any help or anything, call or text me or something; I live about five to ten minutes down that road," he pointed to the direction he'd been previously travelling before with his thumb as he scribbled his number down. "Ya can't miss it." He smiled as Arthur reached across to take his number. "Ok, see ya later, Artie!"

"It's Arthur!" He muttered crossly under his breath as the truck drove away. However he couldn't stay mad for long and after paying the clerk at the gas station, he parked over at the red brick town hall to go meet this Sheryl Ann at the front desk.

* * *

**Wow, so finally added something to this story. A little longer than the previous two. I'm so proud of my self! \(o_o)/**


End file.
